by Frost Kay
Sage jerked and narrowed her eyes at Blaise. “You’re not going onto that battlefield tomorrow, even if you have the advantage of speedy healing.”
“That’s exactly why I should be out there. I can heal faster than everyone else.”
Sage wiped the blade against the blanket and placed it next to the other finished blades. “Do you know how many times you’ve been hurt?”
“Only a handful of times.”
She glared harder at Blaise and held up her right hand, fingers spread. “Five times. Five times you’ve almost died. As soon as you enter the battle, you become the target. I’ve seen the way the warriors go after you. They aren’t just out for blood. They’re out for your pain.”
Blaise held her gaze. “I’m a traitor.”
“So you deserve to be raped and killed?” she hissed. Her stomach turned as she remembered Blaise’s torn clothing and the pattern that had been carved into her skin.
Her friend blinked and stared at her lap. “In our culture, betrayal is the ultimate sin.” She lifted her dark brown eyes and squarely met Sage’s gaze. “Betrayal is disgraceful and begets disgrace.”
“What they’ve been attempting isn’t disgrace, it’s barbaric. Animals don’t even treat each other in that way.”
Blaise shrugged. “I knew what the consequences would be when I helped you escape. I don’t regret my choices.”
“I regret a lot of things,” Sage admitted.
“Regret helps no one. Move forward.”
“I’m trying.” She sighed and stood, her body aching.
“You’re pushing too hard,” Blaise said, her gaze running over Sage’s form. “You’ll get yourself killed if you don’t slow down.”
A wry smile touched her mouth. “That’s a little like the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”
Her friend arched a midnight brow. “I’m Scythian,” she said haughtily, as if that explained everything.
Sage shook her head, muttering, “You can take the princess from the palace, but you can’t take the—”
Blaise growled and stabbed a short sword toward Mira’s bustling form. “Go check the healer. She’s pushing herself as hard as you, I suspect. Every day, I’m amazed she’s still standing.”
Worry filled Sage as she approached Mira, who had moved to the center of the massive tent and washed her hands vigorously with a strong-smelling soap. Sage snatched the pitcher up before Mira could reach for it and poured the warm water over the healer’s hands.
“Thank you,” Mira mumbled.
“You’re welcome.” She eyed the tent, spotting only two other healers. “Where’s Jacob?”
“He went home today. They need a healer of his talent in the capital.”
The capital: Sanee. Stars above, she was so glad they hadn’t pulled their soldiers from the fleet before war broke out. If they had left them… Sanee would have been captured.
“It’s come to a standstill from what I’ve heard.”
Mira wiped her wet hands on a clean towel, blew the loose blonde strands from her face, and then smiled weakly. “Father doesn’t like to be far from the king.”
“It’s good that Sam and Marq have Jacob as a support.” Sage gave her friend a concerned look. “You need a break.”
Mira shook her head. “No time. Bandages need to be changed, wounds cleaned, poultices brewed, fevers managed, and then the surgeries…”
Sage shivered. She’d already assisted in two amputations, and the sounds the men made would forever haunt her.
One of the Elite entered the tent with a loaf of bread and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm and a hunk of cheese in his hand.
“At least eat,” Sage implored.
“I’m not very hungry.”
She wouldn’t be either if she had been dealing with pus, blood, and bone all day. “If you don’t care for yourself…” The Elite paused by their sides, and Sage took the cheese and wine from him. “You can’t care for anyone else.”
Mira eyed the cheese tiredly. Then, she plopped onto the dirt floor and held her hand out. “Hand it over.”
Sage broke off a large hunk of cheese and passed the bottle down to Mira before gesturing for the bread. The healer took a bite of cheese and then drank straight from the bottle. After a few swallows, Sage tactfully stepped in and took the wine. She tore off a piece of the rough wheat bread and handed it to her friend. Mira ate mechanically, like she tasted nothing.
Handing the rest of the bread back to the Elite, Sage knelt and pulled Mira into a hug. Her friend pressed her forehead against Sage’s shoulder and shuddered.
“Six today. Six.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“I thought I was prepared for this.” Mira’s voice hitched. “I wasn’t, I’m not—six!”
“You did your best,” Sage crooned softly.
The healer pulled back, her blue eyes sad. “But it wasn’t enough.”
“It’s enough that you’re here.”
Mira pasted on a bright smile. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.” Sage squeezed her once more and then stood, taking the leftover food from the Elite. She placed it in a clean towel and set it on the counter near some lavender. “Eat this.”
“I’ll do my best.” Mira stood and kissed her cheek. “Be safe.”
Sage nodded, then continued her round along the next wall of soldiers. By the time she reached the exit to the camp infirmary, her eyes felt like they had sand in them, and her bones threatened to collapse.
Tehl had to be back by now.
Once again, she lifted her hood and strode out into the freezing night air, her cloak stirring a flurry of snowflakes around her boots. The walk back to their tent seemed to take no time at all. She stood outside the entrance and stared at the tent flap. Anxious voices murmured just inside.
Her heart clenched, and fear started to rise when she didn’t hear her husband’s voice among them.
Be brave.
Sage prepared herself for the worst and stepped inside.
Seven
Sage
All voices ceased as she stepped into the tent. Four pairs of weary, concerned eyes stared at her with too much sympathy. Tehl wasn’t among them.
The air was sucked from her lungs, and Sage couldn’t get a decent breath.
No.
She began to tremble but forced the words from between her numb lips. “Does the crown prince still live?” she rasped, her voice almost failing.
Queen Osir gasped and strode from the war table, her amber eyes wide. “He’s fine, little one. A few small injuries but fine.” Sage’s whole body sagged, and the Methian queen pulled her into a hug. “You okay?”
Sage nodded and pulled back. She pushed the loose hair from her face with a shaky hand and smiled weakly. “How goes it?”
Zachael eyed her and then the war map. “We’re just discussing the movements of the Scythian army.”
She squeezed Queen Osir’s arm and moved around her to get a better look at the map. The Aermian and Methian soldiers were slowly being pushed backward, and the Scythians were taking over the south and the north. They couldn’t allow the warriors to gain any more ground. If they weren’t careful, their enemies would have them back up against the mountains.
Her gaze was drawn to the river that cut across the plains to the south. “They won’t cross the river,” she mused out loud. “They’d be bottled up.”
Raziel hummed in agreement, the Methian prince looking more like a ragged pirate than royalty. “It would be the more difficult path. Logically, they should attack from the north.”
Gav snorted, his lavender eyes filled with humor. “We all know how logical Scythia is.”
Sage shot him a confused look. Why was he so chipper?
Raziel rolled his eyes. “More like crazy.”
Zachael crossed his arms over his chest. “Crazy as the warlord might be, he’s a tactical genius.”
Gav’s humor cooled, and something dark
slithered through his eyes. “Some of our men were able to destroy one of his war machines today.” A pause. “It wasn’t easy.”
Raziel scoffed. “It was a nightmare.”
Sage leaned a hip on the table, her eyes feeling like they were filled with sand. Zachael squeezed her shoulder and moved to collect his cloak.
“Well done. The sooner we destroy every machine, the sooner the queen can launch the aerial attack and we can pull the fiilee from the coast.” He tossed his cloak over his shoulders. “Our soldiers have their commands.” He pulled his hood over his dark silver-streaked hair and held out his arm for the queen. “Tomorrow, we shall reconvene. My lady.”
Sage nodded tiredly and didn’t comment on how easily the queen took the weapons master’s arm and disappeared out of the tent. Interesting. Maybe love had wiggled itself in, despite all the death they were exposed to.
Exhausted, Sage dragged her attention from the tent flap as Gav wove around the table and hugged her. She sank into his warmth and leaned her cheek against her friend’s shoulder.
“I’ll see you both in the morning,” Raziel whispered before he slipped from the room.
She shuddered and hugged Gav tighter. “I thought Tehl had—”
Gav placed a hand on the back of her head and stroked what was left of her braid. “I know, I know. When I saw the look on your face...” He sucked in a sharp breath. “The fact is that he’s okay.”
“You were gone too long. How bad is it?” she murmured.
“A wound to the arm but not with a poisoned blade, thank the stars. He needs to be stitched.”
“Thank you.” She stepped back and studied her friend. His black hair had grown longer, and he’d taken to braiding the sides back in the Methian style. He used to carry an air of approachability. He was harder now. They all were, she supposed.
Gav kissed her forehead. “Get some sleep. Morning will be here soon.”
“You too.” She rubbed her forehead as he collected his brown cloak from the chair in the corner of the tent. If she wasn’t mistaken, he smelled suspiciously like whiskey. Today must have been a close call. He rarely drank. Her mind wandered to the long list of things she needed to take care of tomorrow. “The messenger is leaving with info for Sam tomorrow. If you have a correspondence for Isa, leave it here. I’ll make sure it gets to her.”
He smiled and pulled a letter from the breast pocket of his cloak. “I’m one step ahead of you.”
Sage padded over to him and took the letter from his calloused fingers. “I know you miss her.”
Gav frowned. “It’s bizarre not to have her underfoot.” His expression cleared. “Thank you and goodnight.”
She watched him exit and rubbed her thumb across the rough parchment of his letter, then turned for their chambers. Tehl would come back when he’d finished with the healers. Hopefully, she would be able to keep her eyes open until then.
She lifted the flap and jerked to a stop at the sight that greeted her. Tehl was sprawled across their bed in his armor, sound asleep. Nali had wedged herself against his side and draped over the foot of the bed and onto the roughly woven rug that protected them from some of the chill of the frozen ground. The feline cracked a golden eye and rumbled a lazy hello. The fist around Sage’s lungs loosened at the cozy sight.
Tehl was okay. Not dead on the battlefield somewhere.
“I wondered where you got off to,” she whispered to Nali as she stepped fully inside. The feline huffed a contented breath and nuzzled the side of Tehl’s neck. The man didn’t even stir. She probably didn’t want to know what had put him in such a state.
Sage toed off her boots and skirted around the end of the bed. She eyed his filthy armor and the bedding. It would need to be shaken out before they actually went to bed for the night.
“Tehl,” she murmured.
Nothing.
“Tehl.” Still nothing.
Biting her lip, she stared at the pillow and then his face. All she wanted to do was lie by his side and wake him gently, but that wasn’t in the cards for them. He’d almost strangled her three weeks prior when he came out of whatever horror had plagued him while he slept.
“You might want to move, Nali.” The leren didn’t budge. “Your mistake.”
Sage plucked the pillow from the head of the bed and, before she could feel guilty about it, smacked Tehl in the face with the feather pillow and lunged backward. Tehl exploded from the bed, gasping, weapons in both hands. Nali growled at being disturbed and slinked off the bed and out of the room.
Tehl’s sapphire gaze followed the feline and then scanned the tent, settling on her. Recognition dawned, and he lowered his blades.
“Sage,” he said with a half-smile. “The pillow again, love?”
Her heart clenched at the devastating smile on his face, and she forced herself to shrug. “I couldn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t take my weapons?”
“You always hide them. I never know what you have stashed away.” Her voice cracked.
His smile melted, and he squinted. “What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Nothing is wrong. I’m fine.” She wasn’t at all fine. He’d come close to death; she knew it in her heart.
Tehl scoffed and shook his head, his midnight hair whipping around his face. “Not that word. Tell me what has you so upset.”
Her bottom lip trembled and betrayed her as heat filled her eyes. She launched herself across the bed and into his arms. He’d dropped his blades when he’d stood, and now his arms snaked around her as she trembled.
“I thought you died,” she choked out.
Tehl leaned back and cupped her face between his palms. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
Tears blurred her eyes. “You were late in arriving and then, when I entered the war room, you weren’t among the war council. They all looked at me with so much pity. I just assumed…” An embarrassing hiccup escaped her.
He yanked her back into his arms and squeezed her against his chest. The metal from his breastplate dug painfully into her ribs, but she didn’t care. He was real, alive, and whole. Sage ran her hands down his biceps, and he inhaled sharply.
Sage jerked back and eyed him with irritation. “You haven’t seen Mira?” she demanded.
“I intended to. But I sat down just for a moment to take off my armor. Nali was purring, and I guess I fell asleep.” He smiled sheepishly.
Men.
Rolling her eyes, she lifted her arms to the latches of his chest piece and began to unbuckle the right side. “Blaming it on the cat?”
Tehl grinned in amusement. “The cat? If that man-eating nuisance was here, I’m sure she’d be highly offended.”
“Hmmm.”
She finished up with the right side and moved to the left, her adept fingers making quick work of it. Sage grunted as she pulled the heavy breastplate away and leaned it against the small stationary washtub to the left of the bed.
“I don’t know how you lug that around all day.” She thumped her molded leather chest piece. “This is so much lighter.”
“True,” he said, running a knuckle across her left cheek. “But you’re also a much smaller target. Harder to hit. Chances of an arrow finding your chest are slim.”
She scoffed, helping him out of his pauldrons and depositing them on the floor. “I could make one stronger that was half the weight. Weight makes you slower. Slower means death.”
Blood soaked the sleeve of his left bicep, and she winced when she saw the angry cut peeking out. “Do you want to go to the infirmary?”
Tehl released her and reached for the small, wooden box they kept at the end of the bed for occasions such as this.
He lifted the lid and pulled whiskey, bandages, and a needle and thread from the box. “Too tired.” He held out the needle and thread to her. “Will you do the honors, wife?”
Sage took the needle from his fingers and gestured to their bed. “You know my stitches aren’t as straight as Mira’s.”
&
nbsp; Tehl tossed the supplies onto the bed and sat so he faced her. “Don’t I know it.”
She hid her smile.
“Help me with my shirt?”
He bent forward so she could help him pull the soiled linen shirt over his head. Blood rushed to her cheeks as she got an eyeful of naked chest and the small trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the edge of his leather trousers.
Dirty and bloody.
Still, he was one of the most attractive men she’d ever laid eyes upon.
A goofy grin lifted her husband’s lips, and his hands crept to her hips as he scooted to the side of the bed and tugged her closer to the mattress.
Sage arched a brow at him, knowing exactly what his game was.
“Not the time. We need to clean and stitch your wound.”
With gentle pressure, he guided her into the space between his parted legs and rested his cheek against her lower belly. “You never know when the last time could be.”
True.
She ran her fingers through his inky hair, and he tipped his head back so he could meet her eyes. It was moments like these that affected her the most. Quiet, humble moments when they held each other with love and affection. No outside world to interrupt them. She bent and placed her lips against his in a sweet kiss. Tehl’s eyes closed as she pulled away, and she sat next to him, eyeing his cut. It was around three inches long and not terribly deep. More of an irritation than anything.
“Pass me the whiskey,” she said briskly. They might as well get the worst of it over.
Tehl uncorked the spirits and took a heavy swig before handing the bottle over to her.
“I love you.”
Sage startled and looked at him with surprise. Tehl showed love, affection, and devotion in his everyday activities. Rarely did he utter them out loud. Bloody hell, it must have been a really close call. Her pulse sped up, and she forced herself to take a calming breath. It wouldn’t help anyone to think about what might have been.
“As I love you,” she murmured back. Her gaze dropped to the whiskey. “But you might not by the time I’m finished with you.”